Due Diligence
by Simply Shelby
Summary: Where the ordinarily prudent and reasonable go off the deep end. K-Unit kidnaps Alex and sets MI6 straight. Chaos abounds. A side-story to my For Neither Queen, nor Country series. Written with tongue firmly in cheek.
1. Powerless

**Due Diligence  
By Simply Shelby**

Alex Rider had been kidnapped.

Suddenly and without warning.

Disappearing via a well-trained SAS unit.

From right under his nose.

If he were anyone else, he supposed he would be upset.

"We've just had a call from Ankara." Mrs. Jones had informed him brusquely. Her eyes gazed intensely across the surface his desk at his turned chair. "Benson has confirmed that the entire SAS unit seems to have disappeared." He turned his chair and gave her his trademark blank look, not seeing how this concerned him until she said bluntly, "They've taken Alex with them."

Well, that couldn't be good. He steepled his fingers.

"Satellites?" he requested, not missing a beat. He didn't stand to his feet, he didn't pace, didn't move. Nothing surprised him.

She shook her head, primly. "Nothing as of yet, I'm afraid." Pursing her lips, she sucked diligently on her peppermint. "I'm unclear as to their motives, Alan."

This matter was clearly bothering her. He would have frowned at the emotion written across her face, but that would have been completely out of character. And, if he were any other person in the world, he would have snorted sarcastically. However, he was Alan Blunt and kept his face blank and informed her, "Their motives are unimportant at the moment."

She respectfully disagreed. "They are trained to be loyal to their country and are not in the habit of disobeying orders. What possible reason would they have for kidnapping a fifteen-year-old boy?" She didn't mention just what this particular fifteen-year-old boy was. She refrained from mentioning most of the time and he respected that.

He waved away her woman-ish worries. Figuratively speaking, of course. "Any information on the unit?"

She seemed embarassed. "The Major General isn't being very forthcoming, I'm afraid. He demanded justification. I couldn't very well tell him one of his units has kidnapped one of our agents. That would raise some unwanted questions. We're on shaky enough ground as it is."

Blunt was unfazed. He suspected the Major General knew the details anyways. "Dossiers?"

"Missing, apparently." She coughed.

"Stonewalling." He concluded.

"Yes."

It took him but a second before switching tactics. "Eyes on the housekeeper?"

"I'm afraid she's AWOL as well. Our men lost sight of her just after eleven yesterday. By all accounts, she boarded the Tube and another woman disembarked."

* * *

One second Jack was standing on the crowded Tube, making her way back to Sloane Square, and the next second there was another her standing in her place.

The switch was swiftly and expertly done. Profesional. She hadn't even realised she'd been moved until she saw there was a woman who looked exactly like her standing where she had just been. Jack was surprised and captivated, and then the man who had shifted her so elegantly was subtly pushing her out of the underground.

It was a nice day, all things considering. She had spent the morning alone in the Chelsea flat, folding Alex's laundry and washing clean dishes over and over. Alex was gone again and she was worrying. She'd tried to get her mind off of things by shopping in London and spending some time sketching random people in Hyde Park. She'd finally resigned herself to the fact that her worry wasn't going to just disappear and had caught the Tube back to Chelsea. Only to be--Jack wasn't sure what to call this.

Silently, she debated on whether or not to kick this freak's ass and quickly vetoed the idea. He was rather large and scary looking and, with her luck, probably had some deadly training. Best not to get herself killed. Besides, he didn't seem like a bad guy. In fact, he seemed to be protecting her. She just hoped her instincts were right.

They travelled down the Strand, getting easily lost in the crowds. She wondered if she should be terrified or thankful. She didn't have to wonder if this had anything to do with Alex. Her mind ran through possibilities before berating herself for expecting the worst. When they'd reached Whitehall, the man turned to her. "If you'll follow me."

Jack shot a meaningful glance down at the firm grip around her arm. As though she had a choice. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Miss Starbright?" he retorted, his voice hard and the tone demanding.

She was a bit taken aback and actually attempted to take a few steps backwards before realising his hand was attatched to her arm. "Well, yeah... But--"

He inturrupted. "Then it makes no difference who I am." He cut off her protests with a sort of muted exasperation, "But, if you must know, I am the man who will take you to Alex."

* * *

One of things Ian had reiterated to Alex growing up was to always be aware of his surroundings. And even if he was half-dead, as was the case at the moment, ingrained habit took over and he knew something was different the moment he regained consciousness. After ascertaining that there was no imminet danger, he blinked his eyes open.

The room he woke to was completely different to the one in Ankara. Completely white walls replaced the horrid wallpaper. The bed was slightly larger and felt more like an actual bed and less like a camp bed. There was no beeping, no machines, no noise. Two familiar men were playing cards over his bed, looking bored. He stared, willing to accept this as a dream, but the overpowering pain in his body reminded him that it was anything but.

"What's going on?" His voice was soft and clear. His throat must be healing.

The man sitting in the chair on his right came to life, smiled blindingly, and seemed to bounce with exuberance. His cards flew in the air and scattered across the bedclothes. "You're awake!" Snake cheered, "Eagle, look, he's awake!"

"So I've gathered," Eagle's dry voice intoned, rolling his eyes. He set his cards deliberately down on the bed. "Cub," he greeted, looking down at the boy on the bed, "How do you feel?"

Alex stared at him, his mouth parting slightly in disbelief. _If that wasn't the stupidest question. _He shook his head as if to convey his thoughts.

The men seemed to understand. And for some reason, Snake chuckled, "Are you feeling any better?" he corrected his team member who had begun to go through all the basic routine check-ups and Alex let him, trying his damnest not to tense at the clinical touch.

Alex was about to respond when he realised he was being deliberately diverted and his question was being ignored. He kicked himself for not realising it sooner, but chalked it up to feeling, well, feeling like he'd been tortured for days and had spent hours navigating the desert without water. "What's going on?" he requested the knowledge again and was again ignored.

"Do you feel dizzy?"

"Nauseous?"

He didn't want questions! He sat up suddenly, trying to control the situation, the conversation. His hands flew to his temples and he reminded himself to breathe.

"Should you be sitting up so quickly?"

He stopped from shaking his head. Every single muscle in his body screamed in protest at him. His head thrummed with the echoes of men's voices. He refused to panic. Forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly and to _calm down_.

"Would you like some water?"

Enough questions! Each sound was muffled. The echoes inside his head grew louder. Harsh, broken English. Heavy, foreign accents. _"What are you wanting? Who bring you here? Why are you here? Why are you here? Why are you here? Why are you here? Why are you here? Why are you here?" _

He felt like he was going to pass out. But he held on tight to reality. "What--what are you doing?" His words felt heavy on his tongue. He was so tired, so thirsty, so lost.

"We've kidnapped you." Wolf's low voice was loud and clear in his ears coming from the direction of the doorway. Alex's head snapped around and the world tilted.

Moments later, he was blinking his eyes open for the second time in under fifteen minutes. Gentle hands settling him back against the pillows that were too soft to be hospital pillows. Gentle hands reassuring him. Gentle hands taking his vitals. Gentle hands. Gentle.

Snake was talking. Again. "...You tell a kid you're kidnapping him and he goes and faints on you."

Alex let the 'fainting' quip slide. "Tell me..." The world threatened to disappear again and he squeezed his eyes shut. "You're not serious."

"Deadly," Eagle's voice confirmed two metres away on his right. "It's for your own good."

"It's not like we get kicks out of kidnapping teenage boys," Snake's voice explained, near the bottom of the bed.

"Especially if they belong to MI6," Wolf's voice was right behind his shoulder and he stopped himself from flinching in fear.

He opened his eyes wide as the meaning of their words settled, using all of his willpower to keep from collapsing into hysterics. "You're mad." He concluded, logically. "All of you."

"Glad to know we have a defense if this all goes to hell." Eagle quickly held up his hands as his unit leader glared at him for even suggesting it. He then caught sight of the time on his wrist before cursing softly and indicating this to Wolf.

Wolf skirted around the bed and made towards the door, but Eagle stopped him with firm hand on his shoulder. Something passed between the men that Alex didn't attempt to understand, didn't want to understand, but Eagle explained aloud.

"You stay with the kid, I'll talk to the woman."

* * *

**AN: **As demanded, I deliver this. I hope you enjoy the upcoming ride. It's definitely going to be interesting. Just have a look at the genre: Adventure/Angst. Is that even possible?

In regards to the title: "Due Diligence" is the effort made by an ordinarily prudent or reasonable party to avoid harm to another party. It involves a general obligation to meet a standard of behavior. Quite often a contract will specify that a party is required to provide due diligence. Failure to make this effort may be considered negligence.


	2. Principal

**Due Diligence  
By Simply Shelby**

Jack Starbright wasn't sneaky.

It simply wasn't in her genetic makeup to be unseen and unobtrusive. She was as loud and obnoxious as her red hair would suggest. She was neither prim nor proper and probably couldn't blend in if her life depended on it. Which, she was guessing--but trying not to think about--it probably did. Judging by the way her escort kept glancing nervously between her and the crowd on the street, her memorable presence was causing the man to grow increasingly frustrated.

Oh well. It wasn't like his big, burly frame was so invisible. Though, he did seem to be trying to look smaller and less threatening by hunching over and clasping his hands in front of him, seemingly embarassed about something. Or bashful. Actually, he did look quite a bit like the Disney dwarf, Bashful. It was a silly picture to imagine and Jack tried not to giggle, knowing she'd fall into hysterics and tick the man off even more.

Talking made Jack feel less awkward in a hopelessly awkward situation. Even if she had absolutely nothing worth saying. Her parents had tolerated it, Ian Rider had ignored it and Alex had learned to live with it. But strangers still found it annoying sometimes. "So, I'm Jack," she began cheerfully and fell short at his lack of response. "But... I'm guessing you already knew that." Immediately, though, she had another question, "What's your name?"

She caught him glance strangely at her before replying lowly, "Bear."

Okay. She could sort of see where the name had come from. But there was no way she was calling him that in public. "Don't you have a real name?"

"Don't you?" He retorted, forcing her to turn the corner by bumping his arm slightly into hers.

She had half a mind to tell him that Jack _was_ her real name, but decided a different line of questioning was probably safer. "Where're we headed?"

"Out of London."

Jack rolled her eyes at the vague destination. "Just how far are we going?" Gesturing to her high-heeled feet, she added, "Because I've been walking all day."

"Not far."

"You're not MI6, are you?" She'd been playing with the idea the entire time they'd been creeping around London. Because in her experience, MI6 was fond of sending non-descript black cars and getting down to business. To be honest, she would prefer a simple car ride to tearing up her feet on the atrocious London streets.

They turned another corner into a narrow alley way and came to an abrupt stop in front of a perfectly non-descript black car.

Jack stared.

"You ask too many questions," the man announced with words that sounded ominously like those said before the mafia lackey offs the innocent victim and hides him in the trunk. "I'm taking you to Alex."

And now he was getting straight down to business. Jack was seriously rethinking her conclusion about him not being MI6.

"I'm not MI6."

Well. That was that, then.

"Alex Rider is currently under the supervision of SAS. You're being taken to him to keep MI6 from using you against him as they have in the past." He jerked his head towards the car. "Get in the back and stay low." He slipped into the driver's seat and deliberately buckled his seat-belt before starting the car.

"Are we there yet?" Jack quipped quietly from her spot on the floorboard, wondering if she was doing the right thing by trusting this man and going along with his words.

And hoping to God that Alex was alive and safe.

* * *

Mrs Jones was in a tizzy.

Although, most of her life was spent in this state, hidden by a flawless haircut and stainless pantsuits and only shown through her nervous sucking of peppermints. The deputy director had never acted on the so-called stage, never felt her blood freeze before a performance, or the adrenaline of forgetting cues and 'winging it'. But she felt it was important to put on a show for her agents. And critics. To show she was in control and never wavered. That she knew every scene and every alternate ending by heart.

Alan would kill her if he knew that she had already communicated with Alex's kidnappers.

Her mobile rang in a clear, calm tone. An unknown number that couldn't be traced and disappeared from her records directly after the call was terminated. At least the kidnappers were punctual. Closing her eyes to compose herself, she answered calmly. "Yes?"

The voice at the other end was as calm as hers. Perhaps even more so. Perfectly blank and devoid of emotion. "You didn't listen."

"Did you expect me to?" Her hands hovered over another peppermint. The plastic packaging rustled and she snatched her hand back.

"Consider this proof of action."

She wasn't willing to let this person have the upperhand. "What are you going to do?" She scoffed, "You can't hide him from us for forever."

"No," the voice concurred. "But we can show him to the rest of the world."

Mrs Jones took the threat for what it was. "I'll see what I can do," she promised vaguely and proceeded to engage in the infamous art of negotiation.

* * *

"Update?" Wolf asked softly of the man lingering in the doorway without turning away from Alex. The kid had re-succumbed to unconsciousness after about an hour of suffering through excrutiating pain that the morphine drip couldn't dull. Of course, if he had just lain still and not gotten so worked up about this whole thing, it never would have happened.

"Contact established," Eagle reported, crossing his arms and observing the pair with curious eyes.

"And?" Wolf shifted his head to look at his team member.

"_And_." He drawled the word out. "She said she'd look into it. She requested we not hurt him."

"Of course she did." That didn't surprise Wolf. After a bit of core-of-the-earth-deep digging, they'd found mention of a lost family. Alex was the woman's weakness and she was MI6's. It was the best avaliable plan at the moment. "The housekeeper?"

"En route," was Eagle's prompt response. At Wolf's raised eyebrows, he added, "You _know_ how difficult it is to sneak out of London undetected."

Wolf did know. First hand, in fact. "Snake?"

"Coffee."

That _did_ surprise him. "Seriously?"

"And snacks," the lanky man imparted.

Wolf frowned at him. "Do I want to know how?"

Eagle shrugged. "It's Snake and snacks." As though that explained everything. Which it probably did.

But Wolf sensed something beneath the simple explanation. A quick, keen look told him all he needed to know. "Go on."

The soldier across the room sighed heavily. "We're doing the right thing here."

Wolf grimaced and turned back to Alex. "I didn't say anything."

"Never said you did." Eagle stayed as far away from his leader as he possibly could without leaving the room. "We're doing the right thing. I know. I'm just a little fuzzy on the _why_. It's not like we owe him anything. Fox just said to get him out." They weren't words he relished in saying, but they needed to be said. It was true that most times their team communicated with simple looks and signals and that was sufficient. But other times--times where Cub was included--things needed to be said out loud.

"He was a part of our team." The man didn't look up.

"Rubbish." Dismissal was quick and cuthroat.

A long silence ensued. "He's just a kid." Wolf finally admitted. "He shouldn't be out playing Double-O-Seven. He should be dreaming about being a footballer and chasing after girls."

"He's just a kid," the other man reiterated, "And it's not like you to be so attatched."

"I'm not attatched."

"You telling me you went into this with a clear head?" Eagle derided. "It was a half-assed decision you made in a fit of self-righteousness. The only reason we've come this far is because we're pretty good at improvising."

Wolf was perfectly still in the side chair. Words between them weren't ever taken for granted. "You're calling me out on this?"

"You're damn right I am."

"So you disagree?"

Eagle pursed his lips. "No. We all would have done the same. But you need to take a step back. Get some perspective."

Wolf nodded imperceptibly. "Alright."

A faint smile played over Eagle's face. "We're going to catch hell after this is over. Scuttlebutt is that the Major General covered for us with MI6."

"Well that's just fucking lovely," the team leader muttered, "Cub better damn well appreciate this."

Eagle coughed sharply in amusement. "Something tells me he's not going to be too thankful once he's coherent enough to understand."

"Of course he isn't. Kid's tired of being manipulated."

"So we're manipulating him to put an end to the manipulation?"

"Something like that," Wolf growled, settling back into the chair.

And for a few moments they watched the teenager together in steady silence--guarding and waiting.

* * *

**AN:** Enjoy. Hope I've kept everyone in character.


End file.
